Double Shots
by geewayisgeegay
Summary: In which a boy orders a double shot of espresso every night and confuses Zach - because who orders espresso anymore? {A The NBHD short fanfic}


_**(i)**_

YOU CAN NOT POSSIBLY FATHOM THE IMMENSITY of my absolute hatred for this job. A job during which I sit behind a counter in an ugly green apron, taking orders from bratty teenage girls. You would hate your job too if you were me. Why?

I work at a Starbucks, that's why.

Honestly I could go on for hours about why and how much I hate my job, and for good reasons. It could be worse, on the brighter side. I mean, I could be Brandon, right? You see, Brandon works the register. He gets to have one-on-one conversations with his customers, and if I had a dollar for every time someone slipped their number into his hand along with a tip I would be rich by now.

"Yo, Zach!"

I rolled my eyes. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. "What?"

He jogged over to me, sporting his own green apron that was truly the definition of an eyesore seeing as it was constantly clashing with his ugly Christmas-themed sweater.

"Can we switch for a few?" He asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… my ex is here and I… I kinda don't wanna be seen here of all places."

My luck just had fantastic ways to constantly bite me. I looked at the ceiling and released some sort of strangled noise.

"Please? Just for today?" Brandon pleaded, grabbing my arm tightly and shaking it. Not like I needed that circulation anyway.

I finally caved. "Fine. But you owe me one."

Brandon's face morphed into one of relief, "Thank you so so much, I owe you-"

I didn't stay to hear the rest of whatever he had to stay. I took my new position at the register, fixing my apron and folding my hands behind me.

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you?"

A woman and a child stepped up to the counter. The child flaunted her Queen Elsa dress, swinging the blue skirt from side to side as her mother stuffed her phone in her purse.

"Oh, um, hi," She spoke up. Her voice seemed a bit hoarse, almost as if she had been crying. She had the set of puffy red eyes to match. "Can I please have a pumpkin spice latte?"

I nodded, smiling.

Her daughter wiggled her way out of her mother's arms and onto the counter. "Daddy says only girls are allowed to have long hair."

I winced.

"Honey, you can't just-"

"Are you a princess?" Her eyes reflected pure joy as she smiled up at me. I just couldn't trample a child's hope, but what if the woman had something against gay people?

I pulled a tight smile over my lips, "Yeah, I am."

Her eyes widened with hope as she climbed into her mother's arms. "Mommy! Mommy! See? Boys can be princesses too."

The woman frowned at me as her daughter ran off to God knows where. "I don't appreciate you teaching my child to be a sinner."

I raised an eyebrow, handing her her coffee and silently hoping Brandon spat in her drink. "I don't know what you're talking about-"

"You," she pointed an accusatory finger at me. "Are teaching my child the ways of the…" The next word she shouted with such disgust that she caught several people's attention. "Homosexuals."

Her child returned with a straw, making grabby hands at her mother, who lifted her up with her frown still evident on her face.

"I hope you know you're going to face God's judgement." She spat, turning on her heel.

The child popped up over her mother's shoulder, smiling brightly at me, "Goodbye, princess Zach!" Then she was gone.

For a moment, I bit my lip to prevent the flow of tears that wanted to come, wondering how she knew my name. Then I remembered that my uniform had a name tag on it, and that name tag had "Zach" scribbled below a hand-drawn crown.

"Hey, you okay?"

I gnawed at the skin under my lip, wiping my eyes and pretending I hadn't been on the verge of tears just ten seconds ago. I finally gathered the courage to meet the stranger's gaze.

He had dirty blonde hair swept in a wave above his forehead, A few tattoos stuck out from underneath the collar of his leather jacket. Also, was it just me or was Brandon messing with the thermostat again?

"Y-Yeah, I just…" I silently cursed my stuttering spell. "It's nothing. What can I get for ya?"

The man smiled, "I'll have a double shot espresso, no sugar."

I almost choked on my own spit as I rang up his order; how was he still alive? Somehow the fact that he could manage to digest all of that bitter fluid made him seem hotter.

"A double shot without sugar?" I asked, ringing up his order. "How do you even drink that? I'm not supposed to be saying this but that stuff tastes like garbage."

He looked offended, "Espresso is my lifeline. How do you not like it?"

Who would have thought that some handsome stranger would be able to make me forget about my previous mishap with the lady so quickly?

I made a faux face of disgust, "Too bitter."

The man laughed and sweet Jesus it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. It rang free like Christmas bells and I think I just died a little inside.

I felt the sweat gather under my collar. This was it. This is how I died. Read it in the paper, kids; LOCAL TRASH BAG OVERHEATS AFTER DISCOVERING HIS COFFEE FETISH. My knees shook as he handed me a wad of money.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Jesse."

I nodded. Cool name.

"Keep the change," He laughed before taking his place in the waiting line.

After I saw he was gone I release a relieved breath. That was absolutely nerve-wracking, and I could still feel the boiling urges under my shirt.

Brandon decided now would be a good moment to show up. He slapped me on the back and I let out a confused yelp.

"Thanks, dude. She's crazy." He laughed.

Okay, so the man wasn't his ex, that was always good, right?

I laughed along as well, not failing to notice the glance the strange man cast in my direction.

"Thanks, Z." Brandon laughed, leaning against the counter after he noticed that the line had dissipated, leaving nothing behind but a few customers who went about their own business. "So, I saw you giving the doe eyes to that dude over there."

Well dress me like a turkey and call me dinner. I was screwed.

Brandon smirked, placing a cup beneath the espresso machine. I watched with a certain kind of satisfaction that I couldn't explain as I saw the brown-almost black-liquid pour into the small shot cup.

He popped open a sharpie, scribbling something on the cup before handing it to me.

"Don't look at it, okay?" He said.

I nodded before rolling my eyes again. Who knows, maybe if I rolled my eyes back far enough I might find a will to live somewhere back there.

I passed the cup over to Jesse with a "Starbucks smile" on my face.

"Thanks," He replied, winking at me.

Then he walked out of the restaurant with the biggest grin I had ever seen on anyone. Upon turning around, I realized that Brandon had this same grin on his own face.

Then it hit me.

"Brandon…" I trailed off, my skin paling. "What did you write on that cup…?"

Brandon smiled. "Oh, just your number. Nothing much."

I nearly choked on my own spit right about then. Who gave him the right? I spent about forty seconds opening and closing my mouth like a fish before I let out a manly screech.

"Brandon, what the-"

He silenced me by putting his finger up to my lips, "I just helped you get a boo. Be thankful."

"Brandon, you can't just go around giving my number to hot strangers!"

"So you're admitting, you think he's hot?"

"What I- well, I mean, he's cute but-" I fiddled with my fingers, feeling the warmth rush to my face.

Brandon smirked, "apology accepted."

I flipped him the bird, leaning on the table before looking at the clock. My shift ended in five minutes. That meant there were approximately 300 seconds that I would have to sit through, taking orders and thinking back to that man. What was his name? Jesse?

Jesus H Christ, this was going to be the longest five minutes of my life.


End file.
